


the absence (of unbecoming)

by justlikeswitchblades



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Morning Wood, male pronouns for Astral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:24:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9644297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/pseuds/justlikeswitchblades
Summary: Astral has a question about human anatomy. Yuma doesn't really want to answer it, especially since he slept through the majority of health class.But if he doesn't, who will?





	

**Author's Note:**

> or, astral deconstructs societal attitudes towards sex one by one. definitely aimed for more of an informative/awkward/sweet scene opposed to something real explicit ngl

The Saturday morning sun creeps incrementally into Yuma’s bedroom at first, Astral has noticed. It goes from the dark of night, to a purple-blue, to lighter and lighter shades until the oranges and yellow start to fill in, casting shifting shadows over Yuma’s sleeping form. It pours in through his windowpanes unobstructed, though Yuma never wakes at first light, softly snoring away until the sun is much higher in the sky, illuminating him with golden warmth.

Yuma stirs lazily in the light, emitting a low groan from his throat as he stretches his arms above his head, twisting onto his back, a dark spot of drool staining his pillowcase. He scrunches up his nose, mouth opening in a wide yawn, but his eyelids stay closed, even though his snoring has stopped. His hand falls to his stomach, pushing up the hem of his shirt, idly scratching at his skin. Then, he moves his hand further down, palming the tented fabric at the front of his sweatpants. His knees draw together, toes curling in his socked feet, and he slips his hand under his waistband, fingers shuffling underneath the loose fabric.

“Yuma.”

Yuma bolts upright with a yelp, his hands shooting to the sides of his hammock, steadying it as it swings dangerously at his sudden movement. He looks up at Astral with panic written over his features, cheeks tinged pink.

“Astral!” His voice cracks as he chokes out Astral’s name, and then he coughs, chest expanding with a sudden breath. “How long have you been waiting there?”

“An hour or two,” Astral unfolds his arms, floating closer to Yuma to peer out the window, “I like watching the sunrise when I don’t have to wake you up for school.” Yuma shifts onto his side, his back to Astral as he grabs the blanket that had fallen out of the hammock halfway, pulling it up to his chest. Astral looks down at him, and Yuma pouts, face still flushed, if not a little brighter than before.

“Can you go back inside the key for a while, Astral? I don’t want you to see.”

“See?” Astral blinks, “My vision is fine, Yuma.”

“Even if you were blind, I still wouldn’t want you to hear it!” Yuma whines, looking almost as if he might cry, “It was bad enough when Akari sat me down to talk about this stuff; I don’t want to have to explain it to you, too!” Astral tilts his head in confusion.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I guess it makes sense,” Yuma sighs, passing a hand over his face before sitting up again, blanket balled up in his lap, “That doesn’t make it any easier, but, fine.” He meets Astral’s gaze.

“You know how I told you not to show up when I’m in the bathroom, or getting dressed, right?”  
Astral nods.

“It’s like that! Humans don’t walk around naked like you do, Astral. It’d be embarrassing if you saw me naked. It’d be even worse if you saw me touching myself.”

Astral levels a look at the clashing patterns and colors of Yuma’s dirty clothes, discarded on his bedroom floor. “I’m surprised, Yuma. I didn’t realize embarrassment was an emotion you experienced, too.” Yuma follows his line of sight, his eyebrows drawing together.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Yuma frowns, and a smile tugs at the corner of Astral’s mouth.

“Either way,” Astral offers a small shrug, “I’m still not sure I understand. Are humans not supposed to touch themselves in a certain way?”

“Touching yourself...masturbating...getting off…” Yuma looks at Astral expectantly, but all Astral can do is shake his head in the negative.

“If it’s embarrassing, does that mean it’s a bad thing?”

“Well, that depends on who you talk to,” Yuma rubs below his nose with an immature giggle, “But at least it feels good. Really good, like getting ice cream on a hot summer day, or...like winning a duel!” He pauses. “You know, it might even feel better than winning a duel.”

“Better than winning a duel, huh…” Astral takes his chin in his hand, a small furrow forming in his brow, “If it feels that good, then why are humans ashamed of it?”

“That’s...a good question, Astral,” Yuma raises his eyebrows, shrugging helplessly, “I don’t know. It’s just supposed to be secret—and if you do it with someone else, you’re supposed to do it with someone you love.”

“But don’t you love your friends and family? I’ve never seen you touch yourself inappropriately around them—or maybe I never realized it.”

“Not that kind of love, Astral!” Yuma groans, sinking his face into his hands, “It’s not like that at all. It’s like, boyfriend-girlfriend love. Romantic love. Babymaking love.” He swallows, scratching at the back of his neck as he glances away. “Though I guess a lot of people have sex when they don’t even want to make babies, ‘cause it feels good, too.”

“So sex is—”

“—what that last one is called, yeah.”

Astral opens his mouth, then pauses, closing it. He’s seen Yuma in his more fearful moments, when his nerves take over during a particularly difficult part of a duel. But he’s never seen him quite like this—shyer, flustered, near painfully honest. He has his questions, but he knows when to hold his tongue.

Still, he can’t help but marvel to himself: humans are so complex, and yet so simple.

“You don’t know how babies are made in your world, do you, Astral.” Astral closes his eyes.

“Maybe it’s in a memory I’ve yet to retrieve.”

“I’m not sure if that makes my job any easier, or worse.” Astral opens his eyes to the sound of Yuma’s laugh, and is relieved to see him looking more like his usual carefree self.

“I’ll try to make it easier for you,” Astral shares a smile with Yuma, “I just have one more question.”

“Yeah?”

“You said I was your best friend,” Astral begins, “And I don’t doubt that, Yuma. But is this activity so shameful that you don’t even want to do it in front of me?” 

Yuma takes a moment, letting Astral’s words sink in. He’s not trying to be aggressive—in fact, he looks almost hurt, apprehensive of Yuma’s possible answer. All Yuma can do is sigh, exhaling like a slow-deflating balloon.

“It’s confusing, Astral. Because part of me thinks I shouldn’t.”

Astral’s lips press into a firm line. He looks away from Yuma, staring at nothing in particular in the space around them.

“...I can go back inside the key, then.”

“That’s the thing,” Yuma begins, reaching for Astral’s wrist. His fingertips dip into him before he remembers better, passing through his projection. He bites his lip, and his hand falls back, clenching into a loose fist.

“I want you to watch, Astral,” Yuma tells him, staring at Astral until he gives in, meeting his eyes again, “I want you to stay.” Yuma’s gaze is fiery and magnetic, fixing Astral in his spot.

“Are you sure, Yuma?”

“I mean...it’s the surest I’ve ever felt about it this _morning,_ ” Yuma shrugs again, throwing his hands up, “Feelings are sometimes weird for the both of us, Astral! But who would I be if I didn’t just go for it, you know?”

“Besides,” He huffs, narrowing his eyes, “I know you’re gonna keep asking about it if I say no, and I do _not_ want to go through this conversation again.” Astral crosses his arms.

“You make it sound painful, Yuma.”

“You’re the one who’s a pain to deal with!”

Yuma jumps down from his hammock, walking over his dresser with Astral peeking over his shoulder. He hastily combs through the top drawer, pushing underwear and balled up socks to the side to uncover a small tub of Vaseline. He carries it back with him to the hammock, the plastic tub nestling against his side as he settles back into his pillows. He gives Astral another look, pursing his lips as if he’s reconsidering his decision one last time. But after a few seconds, he hooks his thumbs into his waistband, pushing his sweatpants down his thighs.

“This is my dick,” Yuma gestures at himself, pink rising to his cheeks yet again, “Well, that's not the proper name, but _penis _is so…” He sticks out his tongue, gagging, “It’s my dick. Technically my erection right now, but still.”__

__Astral's eyes can't help being drawn to it. In comparison to that same area on his body, decorated with markings but flat entirely, Yuma’s erection is so _present _, so _there_. The way Yuma was talking about it, he was expecting something ugly, to be ashamed of. But it looks so natural, matching Yuma’s tan skin, with a touch more red at the tip. It pokes out into the bedroom air from a nest of dark curly hair, rigid in an echo of Yuma’s own confidence, but appearing a touch vulnerable, with a soft curve. Astral is, completely and utterly, enraptured. His eyes widen, and his lips part as he floats in, taking a closer look. Yuma makes a choked noise.___ _

____“Do you need to get that close?” Astral raises his eyebrows._ _ _ _

____“Will it be a problem?” Yuma hesitates. Astral exhales softly, floating back and crossing his arms._ _ _ _

____“Well, you don't need to _pout_ about it,” Yuma rolls his eyes, “Just...I don't know, relax a little!”_ _ _ _

____Astral is tempted to tell Yuma that he seems like the agitated one, but he sets his jaw, trying to not show too much interest as Yuma flips the blue cap of the lotion open. He squirts a liberal amount of the white, waxy substance into his palm, then sets the container down by his feet, sending another cautious glance Astral’s way before flopping back again._ _ _ _

____His gaze goes up, to the empty space between himself and the far wall of his bedroom, when he takes hold of himself, slick fingers curling around his shaft. He pumps himself slowly, blinking, hips settling back into the ropes of his hammock._ _ _ _

____It takes little time for Astral’s cool attitude to melt away, his curiosity taking over as he watches. The muted wet sounds, the steady rhythm Yuma finds in the careful flick of his wrist. How his thighs squeeze together, then slowly spread wide, the elastic of his sweatpants pulling taught at his knees. He scratches idly at his stomach, his eyelids closing—and staying put, as if there's an invisible force keeping them there. He pushes the hem of his shirt up, exposing more of his skin and then his hands slides down, slipping between his thighs, to a place where Astral can’t quite see. He watches as Yuma bites his lip, the slow drag of his teeth upwards, his face contorting in—no, not pain. His breathing has started to pick up, and he releases a shallow breath, head lolling back onto the pillow._ _ _ _

____Yuma rocks into his hips into his palm, and if he didn’t have Astral’s full attention then, he captures it wholly with the whimper that comes from his throat. Soft yet high in pitch, it makes Astral freeze up for only a second or two, but it feels much longer, an expanse of time where he feels as if his breath is caught in his throat—and he doesn't even need to breathe in his current form._ _ _ _

____He floats in closer to Yuma, but from the side, it doesn't feel quite right. Yuma was right about needing to relax. It feels too...studious. He wants to learn more, of course, but his mind can't form the questions right now—all he can think about is how he wants to _experience_ it. _ _ _ _

____How exactly he'll do that, of course, remains to be the issue. Floating above Yuma is a good vantage point, but it still feels too distant. He drifts down closer, his face mere inches from Yuma’s, fervently hoping that his eyes stay closed. Then, he floats back, stopping where it feels the least obtrusive, but still intimate, his hips nearly level with Yuma’s, albeit perpendicular, as he rests between his spread knees._ _ _ _

____Another whine rises out of Yuma, followed by a muttered curse. As loud as Yuma can be, part of Astral is entertained by watching him try to keep quiet. But even then, he finds himself at the power of this act, how it makes noise come out of Yuma so involuntarily. Yuma is hardly the type to silence himself willingly._ _ _ _

____His eyes go to Yuma’s erection again, to the trickle of white that’s started to ooze down his tip. How he moves his right hand over himself so effortlessly, timing it with the thrust of his hips. How the heel of his palm is pressed up against the base of his erection, his first finger dipped halfway inside himself, for reasons Astral can’t say why. Without thinking, he extends his hand, just enough._ _ _ _

____Yuma’s spine arches, and he comes with a low moan, splashing white and warm on his skin. It fades into a sigh, and his hips fall back. When he opens his eyes, he sees Astral between his knees, a blue, semitransparent hand cupping the opposite side of his softening erection. His gaze is focused on the haphazard line of come strewn up his chest, and Yuma’s eyes fall to his stomach as well, exhaling a softer breath. He lifts his hand, and carefully puts it close to Astral’s, drawing a line down the back of his hand with the pad of his thumb. Their eyes meet. Then, Yuma lifts the hem of his shirt to his mouth, taking in it his teeth as he eases out of the hammock, heading for the box of tissues sitting atop a shelf on the opposite wall. Wiping himself up, he watches as Astral looks down at himself, fingers trailing over the markings on his crotch. Yuma aches a little when he takes himself in his palm._ _ _ _

____He tries not to think about it._ _ _ _

____“Yuma?” Yuma raises his eyebrows, pulling his sweatpants back up._ _ _ _

____“Is it okay if I want to try touching myself someday?”_ _ _ _

____“Of course! It’s—” Yuma throws the tissue, wincing as it misses the trash can, “Well, I guess it’s not really human nature for you, huh?”_ _ _ _

____“Perhaps not. But when I do, Yuma?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah?”_ _ _ _

____“Would you like to watch?”_ _ _ _

____Yuma opens his mouth. Then, he closes it, coughing into his fist._ _ _ _

____“Um. I mean, I can’t say I’m not curious…” His cheeks start to go pink again as his gaze drifts down to Astral’s crotch, and he quickly looks back up._ _ _ _

____“Only if you want me to, Astral.” Astral closes his eyes, crossing his arms with a smile._ _ _ _

____“I think I do.”_ _ _ _

____Yuma makes a small, strangled noise. Astral opens his eyes, watching him slip the Emperor’s Key around his neck._ _ _ _

____“Well, I guess that settles it,” Yuma grins back at Astral, “Let’s go see if anyone has made breakfast yet, huh?”_ _ _ _


End file.
